


Bengal, 1809

by countessofbiscuit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, Ballroom Dancing, Colonialism, East India Company, F/M, Gen, India, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Regency, cannibalism mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofbiscuit/pseuds/countessofbiscuit
Summary: The Captain and the Resident’s Daughter.—or, the Fortunes and Misfortunes of two Young Persons of Eastern Extraction, during the late French Wars. Comprehending the most Important Concerns of Military and Naval Life; namely, Promotion and Courtship. And particularly shewing, the Distresses that may attend the Miscommunication of Matrimonial Intent and Misconduct in Colonial Affairs.





	Bengal, 1809

**Author's Note:**

> DRAMATIS PERSONAE:  
>   
> Miss Ahsoka Tanough . . . . . . . . . . Daughter of the British Resident of Hyderabad  
>   
> Lt. General Anakin Skywalker . . . . . . . . . . Hero of the Crown Forces in India  
>   
> Captain Felton Rex . . . . . . . . . . Aide-de-Camp to Lt.-Gen. Skywalker  
>   
> General Benjamin Kenobey, K.B. . . . . . . . . . . Commander-in-Chief of the Crown Forces in India  
>   
> Commodore Codrington Ferris . . . . . . . . . . Of _HMS Gloriana,_ East Indies Station  
>   
>  General William Tarkin, 2nd Viscount Tarkin . . . . . . . . . . Governor-General of India  
>   
> Admiral Walter Yularen, K.B. . . . . . . . . . . Flag Officer, East Indies Station  
>   
> Seth Palpatine, 1st Marquess of Palpatine . . . . . . . . . . President of the Board of Control  
>   
> Count Yanis Duceau . . . . . . . . . . French Minister of Foreign Affairs  
>   
> Padmé Amidala, Madame de Naberrie . . . . . . . . . . Wealthy Socialite of Genevan Origin  
>   
> Sir Polk Tanough . . . . . . . . . . British Resident at Hyderabad  
> 

_British Residency_  
_Hyderabad_  
_10 August, 1809_

_My dear Skywalker,_

_The news you consigned to the postscript of your last merits everything and more you request from Hyderabad. May I be perhaps the fifty-first to congratulate you? A knighthood at your age!! None know better how valiantly you’ve fought to deserve it, tho’ you must be sensible of Lord P.’s hand in all this. Still — I shan’t rain on your procession, heaven knows we are quite damp enough._

_The automaton elephant you shall have for dissection, and the sarees for Madame. The tiger met with an unfortunate end, but I am bringing the pelt, along with the creature responsible for killing it — the Resident’s daughter, Miss Ahsoka, whom you are to accompany personally to Theed Park._

_Nothing would deprive Lady Tanough of her rapture at having a daughter swept to England under the protection of a Knight; certainly not my lesson in semantics, weakened by port and no doubt lost in translation; nor my assurances that modern K.B.’s are, on the whole, a species not to be trusted with unmarried daughters. Knight Bachelor, Knight of the Bath, Knave Born — it was all of a piece. I dare say Lady T. hopes Codre. F. will be forced to put into port, and have you and the young lady wed, for she shoots, wears breeches, and is in grave danger of becoming, at the age of fifteen, a spinster._

_This letter may reach you but a day before our caravan, so take no trouble with a reply. I have already conveyed your sincerest pleasure to the family. _

_Believe me, &c. &c._

_B. Kenobey_

  
  


Letters are not often considered heavy things — even by those forced to part with a shilling for a prolix correspondent — but this one weighed considerably on the spirits of Lieutenant-General Anakin Skywalker as he ascended the stairs of Government House. It put him out of humour: out of humour with the General; with his profession and its pernicious demands; with the _Gazette_ that had printed the news of his knighthood; and even with the jasmine that had the temerity to flower in the Calcutta night. Certainly it did not incline his feet to dancing. With a sheet of paper, laid and of the finest cotton, General Kenobey had unknowingly scuppered the expectations of at least four young ladies, and had knowingly ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved friend and subordinate.

To be saddled with a _ward,_ a dependent child, for the duration of his victory cruise — nay, longer still! for the girl was to be installed in Madame de Naberrie’s drawing rooms, those blessed halls of secret rapture! It was practically an insult. Anakin would call the General out, of a fashion, and in private of course, by throwing the damnable letter at his boots. He refrained from burning the note precisely for this satisfaction, for Anakin loved the theatre, and felt himself the Kemble of India — and because the General had brought all of Anakin’s honourifics to bear upon the direction. _Lieutenant-General Sir Anakin Skywalker, K.B._ looked especially fine in his neat hand.

And yet! it was a cursed thing. It sounded overloud in the breast pocket of his best dress coat, rustling like an evil sprite; and to judge by Captain Rex’s solicitous brow as they met in the saloon, he knew well what his general carried with him.

“Evening, sir,” Rex said, placidly. “You’re just in time to miss the storm. Ferris can feel it in his scar, he says, though damned if I know how.”

Anakin testily waved this meteorological certainty into the distance as he rolled deeper into the hall, candlelit and oppressively warm. “Enough of the trivialities, Rex. Is General Kenobey here with the whelp?” 

Such a throng! Tomorrow, every ill-bred tongue in Calcutta would wag about how Skywalker shipped his pagoda tree back to England before the shaking, the better to spread the seeds. And Kenobey would only smirk, and say something in Anakin’s defense so witty as to be incomprehensible. The English establishment would wait in daily expectation of the announcement of a Lady Skywalker, whose six-thousand a year must explain that gentleman’s almost zealous abstention from the usual comforts of India; and, when he returned from furlough, still in possession of a commission, and not, seemingly, in possession of a wife, no assurances to the contrary would dispel the notion that his engagement had simply soured in circumstances of the utmost secrecy (perhaps there had been a _bibi_ in the cable tiers after all). 

“Not yet, sir,” answered Rex, who possessed the admirable ability to ignore his general’s tempestuous moods, and to remain in step with him on the field or in a crowded room. “Perhaps he thought better of it? The treaty may not yet be a done thing, and Sir Polk could still be _persona non grata,_ as far as the Governor is concerned.” 

“Oh, Kenobey has never cared a fig for Tarkin’s sensibilities. Now that he has saved a presidency for him, he would regard bringing an highly eligible young lady of _any_ stripe to a ball as rather a favour, than an insult; though to me, it _must_ be so — the nature of my offense bearing no resemblance to the Governor’s, you understand.” 

“I dare say the girl is as unhappy about the arrangement as you,” rejoined Rex. He pirouetted into Anakin’s path with a glass, then slipped back into his wake. 

“Why, because she is quite wild? She will be impossible to control. Give me an army of miscreants and rogues to march through a jungle before a child raised without a governess. The family employs a teacher of sorts, but he is no better than a common moonshee — an opium-addict who takes little care with his English, addressing her as ‘sir’ more often than not, and sometimes speaking entirely backwards. When last I was there — three years ago, I should think it — the pair of them were wholly taken up with fencing.” Anakin paused only to inhale the vino. _“Fencing!_ I admire spirit, Rex, no one more, but to have her constantly under my boots at Th—” 

Anakin thought better of continuing, however; the subject of Madame was not one to be broached, even with a loyal aide, who would not have traded gossip for a majority. He might have inveighed further on the presumption of the girl’s family, to say nothing of the General, who seemed to regard Anakin’s honour with all the solemnity of a May Day fiddler (for no suspicion _whatever_ could be directed at Madame — who would not so inconvenience their reunion, would not dream of ruining their mutual joy, by taking it upon herself to chaperone a heedless girl of curious origin — when the idea had _clearly_ sprung, fully formed, from the mind of a man baptized in a punch-bowl, and prone to negotiating all manner of strange bargains when the bottle was passed round); but seeing Commodore Ferris approach put Anakin in mind of an equal. By nature of his almost holy command of the _Gloriana,_ above and below decks, and of ensuring not a nail was bent without his knowing of it, Ferris would be his partner in authority; he must feel the inconvenience of a female passenger with similar dismay.

“Ah, Ferris. How do you do?” They shook hands with capital vigour. “I trust General Kenobey has informed you of our dual charge?”

The Commodore’s bronzed face also put Anakin in mind of Rex, though he would never say as much. To see them shouldered together, both darker-featured than a Scottish naval officer or English cavalry captain had any _honest_ business to be, brought Anakin to reflect on more _natural_ forces — lengths of service — exposure to elements temporal — weathering effects of the subcontinent and the service, broadly speaking — fagging about for a rupee or lucrative convoy — temptations of the flesh — Madame — and, finally, of glass houses, and all Madame’s fruits therein; and he once more relegated his suspicions about the Commodore’s parentage to the back of his mind. 

“He has,” came Ferris’s measured reply. No emotion was evinced on the subject of a girl amongst his young gentlemen; and, not for the first time, Anakin wondered if the ghastly blow that had carved up Ferris’s left temple had not also paralyzed all expression. “Although it was very much by the larboard. Set more than one lieutenant’s skull against the bulk-head; — still, if they carry on so, we may have six inches to sling the girl after all, and silence my cross-grained scrub of carpenter.”

Anakin nodded, never entirely certain what Ferris was saying, for he spoke in a very nautical line, and had something of Odysseus in his bearing, at once trickster-like and sage. There would be time to re-acquaint himself with the _patois_ of the service, Anakin reflected. Whilst outward voyages saw him leafing through Gilchrist, practising his declensions and inflections, his sibilants and gutturals, and generally irritating his throat and those unfortunates berthed next to him; on returns, his head was always too full of Madame for the formal study of anything beyond the log, parsing the crew’s auguries of wind and weather, and one exquisite Bone miniature concealed in his trunk. 

“Was I you,” said Anakin, “I should set their skulls to Hindoostani. Miss Tanough has had no better English instruction than the odd novel and her eccentric father. It is all she is likely to answer to, if she answers to anything.”

The ball-room in which the gentlemen constellated had been designed by one of the architectural race known as Wyatt, sometime in the year two; squat-ceilinged and heavily columned, approximately one-hundred-and-fifty feet by eighty, it was sufficiently large for four dozen couples in longways sets; and yet, not capacious enough to prevent General Kenobey from alighting on his young friend precisely when this indiscretion might be overheard. For his own part, Anakin ought not have been startled, when, having felt a draft — one only created by the passage of people in an airless room — and yet carrying on in this way, he became aware of a presence at his elbow, and the elongated accent of the General addressing the young lady in question: 

“Well, Miss Tanough, what say you? Can you understand General Skywalker’s incivility?”

With some loftiness for a girl only brought level with the diamond pip on Kenobey’s breast by a mass of rich black hair, teazed mercilessly into a monstrous, bygone fashion, Miss Tanough replied, “I can _comprehend_ General Skywalker perfectly. Understanding must wait until I am better acquainted with his character. And he with mine.” 

Kenobey chuckled, a gleam in his blue eyes. “Very well said, my dear.” 

Anakin bowed, reflexively, lowering himself as the heat rose full in his face. “Your servant, Miss Tanough,” said he. “Forgive me, the last time we met, you read us something about a parrot after dinner — _Tota Kuhanee,_ I believe — but I failed to engage you in any subjects more interesting. We shall, I hope,” — not at all — “have more opportunity for conversation.” 

At this, Ahsoka bobbed slightly; he was not worth the effort of more, and her attention had moved beyond him to the gentlemen standing at his left. This pair sent her into a curtsey even her mother might applaud; for they were both _very_ striking, with scars that testified to combat, adventure, and all that might fascinate an imaginative and quite fearless girl of fifteen; and, of even greater consequence, they were both oddly complexioned for officers belonging to either King or Company. The golden hair of the cavalryman, indeed, excited about as much interest in her, as her bright blue eyes captivated in him. 

“Miss Tanough,” said Kenobey, “may I introduce Commodore Ferris, of His Majesty’s ship _Gloriana,_ and Captain Rex, of the Bengal Cavalry. Ferris, Rex — Miss Ahsoka Tanough.” 

“The tiger—” began Captain Rex, almost as soon as he had straightened from his bow and without knowing what he did. It was highly unusual to begin in this vein with a young lady; but since Skywalker’s reading him the letter aloud (for the hundredth time), so high had been Rex’s curiosity into particulars, that finding himself now opposite the huntress and at the centre of conversation, he pressed on without ceremony. “Did you really kill one, Miss Tanough?”

“I did, sir. Though I took no joy of it, and should not like to see the pelt used as a shabraque.” She eyed Anakin, archly. “But I suppose General Skywalker may do as he pleases with his things.” 

“Unless I am much mistaken,” replied that gentleman, “those are its teeth I see in your fine comb. And its claws in your parure. How elegant.” 

Before further words were exchanged, which could only set both on so bad a footing as to upend any chance of harmony aboard the _Gloriana,_ Commodore Ferris turned to Kenobey and asked, “In what state did you quit Hyderabad, sir?”

“In rather a hurry. The mutineering cantonment would not suffer my presence, and not wishing to further disquiet that part of the country and embarrass Sir Polk before the arrival of the Ameers, Miss Tanough and I took our leave. As it happened, the sight of my back was all that was needed to persuade them to see reason. A letter from the officers reached me on the road, with profuse assurances of their loyalty to King and Company.”

“And the garrisons in Madras?” asked Rex. “Do you believe the tent contracts will be reinstated?”

“If General McKrell has his way with the Directors in London — ”

“McKrell perished at sea,” interposed Ferris, drinking his wine with equanimity bordering upon indifference. “Admiral Yularen has only just informed me. Went overboard off the Cape in some squall that well near damned the entire ship. That will take the wind out of their topgallants in Masulipatam, paltry as ever it was.”

“Well! That _is_ news,” said Kenobey, equally sangfroid, for there really was no relying on the Cape, unless, Miss Tanough could be reassured, one sailed with such a prime seaman as Commodore Ferris — or was better esteemed by Fortune and Mankind than McKrell. “And your … I shall not say ‘press-ganged,’ for I know you abhor the term and the practice, but your _strongly compelled_ complement of Marines?” 

Ferris bowed to his fair friend. “I must thank Rex for the recommendation of sepoys from the —th.”

“Those Basaret bedlamites would never have answered aboard a King’s ship, anyhow,” said Rex. “Full-batta was also a strong inducement for the officers. Has any more stink been raised on that subject, sir?”

As Kenobey embarked on some roundabout reply, the squeak of a violoncello wafted towards the company, and a general scurrying for place and partner threw the centre of the ball-room into confusion. Anakin, feeling the opportunity to halt this entire farce with Miss Tanough waning by the minute, sought at least to remove her from Kenobey, that he might brandish his letter and give vent to his grievances. 

“Miss Tanough,” Anakin began, turning to that lady, who was full enjoying this frank, if puzzling, review of current military affairs, “Captain Rex is too modest, but I _know_ he placed a great deal of happiness on standing up with you for the first two dances. And for my part, I should be _much_ obliged to him, were he to remain close to you through the course of the evening. As General Kenobey will attest, a more wretched hive of enterprising villainy you would not find outside a Newmarket coaching inn.” 

Captain Rex, a man of considerable parts and seriously invested in the Madras question then under discussion, almost objected at being fobbed off to dance whilst his fellow officers debated fiscal privileges. What could Ferris, a fellow as rich as Croesus and in the pay of the Admiralty, have to do with batta? Rex was not, however, a man of dull feeling. He knew immediately what mortification Miss Tanough must be under by Skywalker’s designing speech; and beyond anything, he empathized with the anxiety attendant on being a half-caste in a marble room. 

“If Miss Tanough would do me the honour?” Rex asked, offering his gloved hand with a bow. To have it accepted by an exceedingly pretty girl, whose ivory gown sprigged with garnets set off her warm complexion admirably, was no great loss; and he was nearly overcome with protective feeling when, moving through the room, not a few of the European ladies eyed them both with suspicion. 

“I must warn you, Captain,” began Ahsoka, “lest you think it some great honor to stand opposite a baronet’s daughter — as I am told such things carry much weight in England — I dance but poorly.” 

“I have always thought experience, not rank, to confer all the honour in a partner,” Rex answered, his countenance all kindness as he led them to the end of a uneven set, where she might observe the figures for one rotation, before being called upon to join hands. “Enthusiasm also holds a certain charm.”

Ahsoka beamed at him. “I rarely lack for that, though I am afraid it will answer for little this evening.” 

The dancing began with a rendition of Augusta’s Favourite; and like many such tunes, however pleasant in themselves, the chords never failed to recollect such afternoons of interminable caning and aching calves, as no boy should have to endure to make his tawny appearance less offensive to society at large; and while Rex might have remained silent for the duration, content to admire the tincture of copper in his partner’s hair, and to consider what line of advance might put him closer to the whole truth about the tiger, Ahsoka would distract them both by speaking:

“General Kenobey tells me you are to travel with the _Gloriana_ to England. I did not think Company officers had such liberty with leave-taking.” 

“We do not, but I have reached ten years’ service and am entitled to a furlough.” 

“Ten years! But you cannot be — ” She hesitated, conscious, it seemed, of treading on a potentially improper subject so early in an acquaintance, however much the assumption of youth in an Indian officer must always be taken as the greatest compliment. In this case, it was not merely impropriety she approached, but a case of illegality — for Captain Felton Rex’s entry into the Company’s Bengal army was the result of fraud, and he was indeed a full three years younger than his certificate attested.

Ahsoka began again. “And you have not left India in all that time?” 

“Excepting a jaunt or three along the coast with old Codry — Commodore Ferris, that is, Codrington being his Christian name — no, not once. Although, we did have a fantastic little cutting out some years ago. Sailed halfway to Mauritius, in pursuit of a French seventy-four that was harassing shipping in the Madras Road. We also believed Count Duceau to be aboard.” 

“Was that when he got his scar? Was there an engagement?” 

“That’s a story best saved for Ferris’s table. I would not spoil it for a song.” 

A tubular gentleman with a pocked face swung Ahsoka in a full circle, and Rex was pleased to see she did not spin out from the set like a top. She also proved equal to a flurry of diagonal sets and crosses, and although her footwork wanted elegance, her smiles and easy gaiety spoke to a character formed for unpretending affability; only the very firm hold she took of his fingers when they reunited for a pousette betrayed her nerves. 

“Your family. Are they all resident in England?” she enquired, as they orbited another couple, circling tighter around that delicate subject she _would_ tread upon, with nearly the same elephantine footfalls that occasionally came down upon Rex’s shoes. 

“I know very little of my family,” he replied, grimly; but seeing the opportunity, while they were closely formed — the _attar_ in her tresses was really quite dizzying — to entrust Ahsoka with the secret that must make her feel at once respected as a friend, and reassured as an equal, he ventured to say, in a voice hardly above a whisper, “My father hailed from an island in the Pacific” — though he would not specify which, until Ferris ascertained the truth of some dreadful rumours then flying about. 

Further swinging and circling commenced, allowing Rex to observe the effect this information had in the transmutation of Ahsoka’s features; from wide-eyed astonishment, to puzzled stoicism, to the canny smile of a confidant. When they stood opposite once more, an intimacy had sprung up between the two, shared by no other couple in the room — one that worked quite contrary to Rex’s intentions, however, and emboldened her to say, with no pretension to concealment: 

“My mother was born Mussulman, but converted upon marriage. My father is of Welsh origin, as you probably know, and, while at the time of my birth, he was much taken up with the philosophy of Buddha, he now believes — perhaps due to this business with the Scind — the customs and religion of the Hindoo to be most correct.”

Rex blanched, aware that anything said in a set of ten couples in a room for four times that was something in the nature of a public statement; if Miss Tanough’s presence had not already attracted the notice of the Governor, this first-hand account of the Resident’s caprice and total abandonment of Company values could not fail to draw him out. Rex attempted to colour the conversation ridiculous. “And what should you like to be? An huntress? An empress?”

“A pirate.” 

“You mustn’t encourage the midshipmen in that line.”

“Oh, they are allowed excitement enough not to be tempted. Were I to cut my hair and don my _salwar,_ I would be a credit to any French privateer.”

Rex could not in good conscience encourage this fanciful talk. He had thought Skywalker’s objections hypocritical and tending towards a rather ungallant prejudice; but while they were not insurmountable — her English was that of the finest schoolmistress in Chiswick and she had not made a pass at the sentry’s sword — neither were they wholly exaggerated. “The Commodore will not suffer any French within a league of the convoy. You would do well to fortify yourself for a long and uneventful passage.” 

“Indeed. My mother has supplied me with enough yardage of calico to dress every gentleman in Christendom. Should you fancy a new shirt? Or perhaps a little carpet for your hookah?”

When Rex had no reply to this, Ahsoka greeted him in their next pousette with, “Tell me, Captain, should _you_ like to be shipped to a country so alien as to be the moon, to be trotted out as a novelty, and made to sew cushions and go mad in the shrubbery for lack of any more engaging employment?”

Rex entered fully into her feelings, but to attempt commiseration would only aggravate the evil of secret confidences between two young people presently to be immured for three months in close quarters. A certain amount of indiscretion was inevitable at sea; he would not goad any ashore. Again he attempted levity. “You travelled the length of the Masulipatam road with General Kenobey. Surely, as resourceful as you are, you may have slipped home by way of some obliging elephant long before now?”

“I would not have put General Kenobey to that trouble for all the world. I admire him exceedingly. It is only his friendship with my father — and a daughter’s duty to humour her mother — that has seen me this far.” 

“Forgive me, but I wonder Lady Tanough does not accompany you.” 

“And to be mistaken for my _ayah_ at every turn? No. My mother is not a proud woman, but she could not suffer it, not for all the dull pleasures of Theed Park.”

“Madame de Naberrie’s estate is vast, and she rides capitally to the hounds. You will have entertainment in spades, even if you cannot be persuaded to leave Theed for a ball, which most young ladies in England regard as the apotheosis of life.” 

“But they seek to form attachments. I do not.” 

Whatever may have been the truth of this assertion, certain expectations were being formed against Miss Tanough’s prospects by more than one gentleman in the room, some more consciously than others. To this latter set, Governor-General Tarkin must belong. He was aware that Miss Tanough was of the company that evening, and had his own bigotry not recoiled at the thought, he might have danced with her himself, so delighted was he that she was on her way out of the country. She was exactly the sort of gilded creature to capture some uppity underwriter, and another Company clerk lining his pockets, another nabob on the backbenches, was the last thing either he or his associates at the Board of Control wanted. The more of these hybrid families he could shift from his continent, the better; for no strong dominion of these lands could be gained by King’s officers and Company officials making themselves ridiculous at _pujas,_ engaging in backwards sacrifices, losing themselves to _hareems,_ and otherwise going native. He was wholly aligned with Lord Palpatine in thinking that only decisive military action — such that General Skywalker was rather good at delivering, and General Kenobey only too good at negating by negotiation — could cement their control over India and discourage French encroachment. 

“Ah, General Skywalker,” said the Governor to that gentleman, whom he found brooding against a column. “I was just admiring Miss Tanough. What a sable beauty her mother must be.” 

Anakin, who had not met with much success in either his application for a duel, or a prompt return of Miss Tanough from whence she came, had no more patience for Tarkin’s civil disdain in that moment than on any average day, and it prompted him to very nearly speak in tongues. “Lady Tanough is a striking woman, indeed, and Miss Ahsoka has inherited all the best of her elegance, refined manners, and good breeding,” he said, with a most obsequious bow to mask his contrary mood. 

“She is already making inroads with your staff. Though what expectations Captain Rex should entertain of a baronet’s daughter, however misbegotten, I do not know.”

Anakin might have admired the General’s military career and his resolute manner with the Company’s Directors, but his character betrayed a narrowness of mind and illiberality of feeling towards mankind as a whole that Anakin found odious. But he would not rise to Tarkin’s incivility, not merely for his own interest, but to safeguard that of Captain Rex. Anakin was conscious to an acute degree of the awkwardness attending Rex’s field appointment to his staff; claims of poaching from the Company and whispers of preferment; accusations of pocketing allowances while the Captain drew full batta — all nonsense, of course, for no army could be as underemployed as that of the Company’s in Bengal, and the chronic shortage of competent staff officers in India had only been aggravated by the novel campaigning in Iberia. Keeping Rex within his circle for so many years had lessened such talk, but it did not vouchsafe the Captain from malicious speculation about his fitness for a Company commission, much less staff service to a King’s officer, in view of the prejudicial reforms of the last decade.

Anakin felt equal only to diplomatic silence, but Tarkin required no encouragement to continue needling. “Ghastly business about the _Boyd._ No doubt you have heard the news?”

“I am not familiar with that vessel, sir,” Anakin lied, poorly. “The fortunes of Indiamen are somewhat beyond my notice.”

“Naturally so. But she was not an Indiaman. Rather a convict ship, set upon by the savages of New Zealand when they touched in for spars. The entire crew, saving four or five, were cut up and eaten.” Tarkin allowed Skywalker to take in this grisly intelligence, whilst he casually joined the rest of the room in honouring the musicians. “Captain Rex has some connexions in that part of the world, does he not?” 

There could be no mistaking the threat in the Governor’s question; it said plainly, “I am privy to everything you might wish to obscure, and I will sink you to the bottom of the Hoogly, along with the rest of your muddied acquaintance, if ever it pleases me.” 

At that moment, Commodore Ferris appeared at Anakin’s elbow and made the usual courtesies to the Governor. 

“We were just discussing … marriage,” said Anakin, fumbling, with no appreciation for the keen ear of a man who could name a ship by the sound of her knees beneath a twelve-pound gun. 

_“Indeed,”_ began Ferris; then after some pause, “I cannot personally recommend the state. But assuming much feeling between the parties, in some cultures, where two gentlemen are so inclined — ”

“Oh, you _are_ droll, Commodore,” hissed Tarkin, barely concealing the curl of his lip behind his glass. “No, it was Miss Tanough we were speaking of. What a fine figure she cuts. A shame she is to quit our society so soon upon gracing us with her … peculiar beauty.” 

Ferris gazed coolly towards the centre of the room, where that lady and Captain Rex could be seen standing intimately together, their set disintegrating and reforming slowly around them in anticipation of the next dance; and, after a protracted silence, he replied only with, “Members of government take a curious interest in bottoms lately.” 

This comment had the desired effect, though Ferris wisely pretended not to see. Anakin’s face became very red and distressed by a fit of coughing, and Tarkin’s uncanny visage, which would not have been out of place in an exhibition of Tussaud’s, betrayed an extensive flush.

“I am speaking, of course, of _hereditary_ bottoms — of Lord Palpatine’s latest bill?” added Ferris, with all the satisfaction of someone who has discomfited a prig. “There are some points on those privileges I should consult you about, Governor, once General Skywalker has concluded his business with you.” 

Once he twigged what Ferris was about, Anakin said with alacrity, “No need, no need,” before bowing to both, winking at one, and taking proper leave of neither. “Good man, that Codry,” he mused to himself, as he pretended to be much fixated on reaching some station in the middle of the crowd, the eyes of every lady present — widowed, married, engaged, or otherwise — fluttering coyly or gleaming eagerly at his approach. But in vain did they look and hope, for Anakin sought only to advance Ferris's favour and relieve Rex of his charge, however plainly the _tête-a-tête_ between his Captain and the lady bespoke no need.

_-FINIS-_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm v. invested in the similarities between the Third and Fourth Anglo-Mysore Wars and The Clone Wars in the creation of Imperial regimes.  
> All the events alluded to in this work occurred in 1809.  
> Batta was an allowance paid to officers of the EIC, but the amount varied depending by presidency and rank. It was a contentious issue in in this period.  
> Hereditary bottoms were ship-building monopolies granted by the EIC; it did not encourage much innovation and meant the EIC navy was rather antiquated. I'm sure Codry goes on to troll Tarkin about all the hereditary bottoms polishing the benches in Parliament too :p


End file.
